12 It's Halftime…Richonne 50 Reasons
by Fik Freak
Summary: Hosting a Super Bowl party at their new house, the couple find a way to sneak in a touchdown of their own. This is in response to a prompt from Richonne Just Desserts, "Richonne 50 Reasons". This one shot will also feed into a longer story I'm writing that will be starting soon.


"Touchdown! Ya, there you go Falcons!"

"Oh! Rick, you startled her. It's ok, sweetie. Daddy's got a loud voice." Michonne says in a soothing tone to our 4 month old daughter Nina. In her mother's arms, quietly nursing, she jumps a little, caught off guard by my cheering for the Atlanta Falcons getting a late 2nd quarter touchdown.

"Daddy's sorry, pumpkin." I offer a soft apology, reaching under the pink nursing bib Michonne is wearing while feeding the baby. Rubbing over my daughter's little feet, I peek under the bib and make eye contact with her. Tightly latched to her mother's nipple, looking back at me with clear blue eyes matching my own, she's wide awake and flexing her fingers in the air. Giving her my finger, she grasps it tightly, her diminutive fingers wrapping around my own.

Smiling affectionately at my little angel, she pulls away from her mother's nipple, and with a gummy grin that leaks a tiny stream of milk from her mouth, she turns over a little laugh and kick of her feet.

Laughing at her excitement, I reach under the bib and take a hold of her little body, removing her from my wife's arms.

"Come here you little, stinker, let me burp you." Still grinning, and smelling of baby powder, my daughter is giggling and kicking, happy to be in her daddy's arms. Nina and I have a special bond. I know that she loves her mother and her brothers, and that her and Michonne have a bond with the breast feeding and the living in her body thing, but I am definitely her favorite person. Everyone knows it. Whenever she sees me, she can't hold back her smiles, laughter, or chubby arms and legs happily flailing. I'm one of the only people who can get her to burp after a feeding, and if she and I snuggle up together we are both apt to fall right to sleep.

Cradling her over my shoulder, I rub and pat her little back, coaxing a loud burp from her mouth.

"Good girl!" Michonne says. Lightly pinching at Nina's chubby cheek, she rises from the couch, presumably to go put away the bib.

"You're so good with her. She loves you more than me. Not sure how I feel about that." She scrunches her pretty face up. Pondering her own words for a moment before tilting her head at us, she offers her final thoughts. "You're a good daddy, I'll allow it."

"Thank you. You're a good mama." I compliment her back, and rub my hand across her wide, curvy hip.

"I know." She responds over her shoulder, looking back to wink at me as she walks away, heading towards the steps that will lead her up to our bedroom.

Now that she's burped I hold my daughter up, blowing kisses into the sweet milk smelling folds of her neck. Giggling, her diminutive fat hands grab a hold of the sides of my face. Bringing her mouth to my cheek she slobbers all over me, then recoils a bit at the feel of the scruff from my day's worth of beard growth. Frowning, my daughter displays her normal distaste for my facial hair. Leaning closer to her face, kissing her on the swell of her rounded apple cheeks I whisper, "Hey, your mama likes the scruff."

She's still frowning though as I take in all of her miniature infant features that so clearly resemble her mother's. From the almond shape of her eyes, to her round face, and full heart shaped lips, Nina is the spitting image of my lovely wife, even though the color of my eyes pop out to show I'm in there too.

Admiring the mass of tightly coiled jet black curls covering her head, and falling over the chocolate kissed skin of her face, we are in our own world. Bouncing my baby girl in my arms, I'm pulled back into the activity in the room by Glenn's bellowing complaints.

"Come on Pats! Y'all are killing me!"

"Nah! They are just playing like the bums they are. I'm loving this!" I exclaim, gloating and looking over to my future brother in law, right before the bouncing disagrees with my just fed daughter. I smell the curdled remains of her meal as she throws up on my lucky black Falcons t-shirt.

"Oh, Nina. You got me huh?"

"Hand me my grandbaby, Rick. Go get yourself cleaned up. It's halftime, you won't miss anything."

"Yeah. Ok." Lifting from the couch I hand my daughter over to Michonne's step-father, Hershel. Turning back, I further tease Glenn before I leave the room. "Listen, Glenn. I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, if you are going to be in this family, you have to root for the Falcons in football, the Braves for baseball, and the Hawks for basketball. Even if you are from Boston. It's a rule. Right, Hershel?" I ask my father in law, looking down at him now slowly rocking my baby girl in his arms. Her tiny body clad in an Atlanta Falcons onesie with matching booties, is now snuggled in her grandpa's arms and the sandman is slowly carting her off to dream land.

Reaching down to carefully rub his hand across my daughter's downy black curls, he nods his own head, and says in his calm southern drawl, "You can't be in this family rooting for a yankee team, Glenn. I'm sorry, but it's Falcons or nothing."

"But _I'm_ a yankee. I was born and bred in Boston!" Glenn huffs, attempting to rationalize with us, his hands in the air in exasperation.

"You can't help where you were born, but you can change who you root for. Isn't that right, sweetpea?" Hershel proclaims, speaking in a small cooing voice to my daughter, and running his hand over her chubby thighs. "Mona, can you bring me a blanket for my grandbaby? Her legs are cold."

"I can take her back, Hershel. I'll go lay her down in her crib if you want." I reach my hands back out to him, eager to get my daughter back in my arms. Since he and Michonne's mother, Mona, got here right before the game started, he has only let her go a few times. Once for Mona to briefly hold her, for Michonne to breast feed her, and lastly for me to just burp her and be thrown up on. Other than that, Hershel has been taking his grandfather duties very serious.

"No, let me have my time with my grandbaby. You and Michonne hog her too much now that you are living further away from King County. Mona and I only get to see her on the weekends. She's already bigger than she was last time I saw her." He frowns up at me, his displeasure evident.

"You just saw her last week though." I reply, amused at the baby obsessed demeanor that Hershel has been displaying since Nina was born, and we bought a bigger house closer to Michonne's job in Atlanta. Though it has been invaluable for he and Mona to help us out with Carl, Andre, and little Nina as much as possible with the move, Michonne and I are trying to reorder things together, begin our married life out with a fresh new start for our family, trying to do as much as we can on our own. With Michonne going back to work from maternity leave a month ago it has been a bit of a strain, but we are doing a good job so far of balancing everything out.

"Oh, Hershel, she's their baby, honey. And stop giving Glenn a hard time. He's a good boy!" My mother in law Mona proclaims, kissing the top of Hershel's head, scolding him gently, but with love.

"Hmph." Is all he says in response, wrapping the blanket he just received from Michonne's mother around the baby, and continuing to rock her to sleep.

Though the game is still going, with the Falcons kicking the Patriots' ass heading towards halftime, my attention is summarily snatched away from the activity in the living room as I catch a glimpse of my wife leaning over the island in the kitchen, her plump bottom in the air, covered in black leggings as she's talking to Maggie about something, snacking on a carrot. Hearing the twinkling of her laughter over the announcer on the TV, and in that position, naughty thoughts, memories and new desires, are invading my brain. Remembrances of us christening that same island when we closed on the house two weeks ago cross my mind, and I catch visions of Michonne bent at the waist, sweaty and writhing beneath me as I clutched her rounded hips in my hands. Shaking the thoughts from my head I decide to take a detour to the kitchen before I head upstairs to change my shirt.

Ambling into the kitchen, I stand next to my wife and catch the tail end of Michonne and Maggie's conversation.

"…are they going to get smaller again?" Maggie gawks at my wife's cleavage, slowly shaking her head in confusion.

"I don't know if they will this time, but I'm going to need new bras now. Hey, what happened to your shirt?" Michonne asks, looking me over, inspecting the baby vomit on my t-shirt.

"Your daughter got me. Heading up to change. Come help me?" I ask, quirking my eyebrow in question, hoping she gets the hint. Biting my bottom lip, I'm getting a good look at her, and the need to get her upstairs is urgently growing. In her tight black leggings, hips softly curved, thighs thick, and her breasts bursting against the confines of her snug fitting button up jean shirt, my shirt to be exact, she is picture perfect, and I need her. Now.

"What? Rick, I don't want to miss the halftime show." She answers, hand on her hip, head tilted to the side. She doesn't realize it, but she's just making it worse. With her long dreads hanging to her waist, and her little perplexed smile on her full lips, all I can think of is all of the ways I'm going to feast on her in the 30 or so minutes I have for halftime, before the game restarts, or my daughter wakes back up.

"Ok, but I need your help picking out a new shirt." Raising my eyebrows again I'm trying to hint to her once more, but my poor wife is missing it. Tapping her on the hip I figure I will have to just be more forceful in my intent. "Excuse us, Maggie. I need to take your sister upstairs for a moment. And, you should probably go help your fiance' out, him and his Pats are sinking." I nod my head towards the living room, and grab Michonne's hand to lead her upstairs.

"Rick, what's going on? Is something wrong?" She asks, concern in her voice. I don't answer her though.

Passing Carl and Andre in the hall, coming upstairs from the game room in the basement, I attempt to cut off their certain questions regarding food and quickly and proactively answer that there is pizza and wings in the kitchen for them. Rushing her up the stairs in front of me, I lean forward and take a bite of her juicy bottom. Also delivering a quick swat to watch it jiggle, she is playfully giggling and I'm hoping she is getting the picture, because we don't have a lot of time.

"Rick, you are so silly. All of this for a new t-shirt?" She asks entering our bedroom, and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Reaching behind me to lock the door, I hurriedly multi-task, ridding myself of the baby vomit t-shirt, tossing it onto the floor, and ordering Alexa to play something sexy.

"Something sexy, huh? Now I see. You just wanted me up here so you could try to fuck me during halftime, while our family is downstairs?"

"Yeah. That's it exactly. Alexa, turn up the volume." The seductive beat of The Weeknd's "Earned It" blares through our large bedroom suite. I like this song, my wife plays it often when she's feeling naughty. Good choice, Alexa.

Already barefoot, I push my jeans and boxers to my feet, leaving them in a pile on the floor. My erection is steely, near bursting with need. Stroking my hand through my dark pubic hair, to get a handful of my weighty balls, I brush my hand up lengthwise to the tip to soothe some of the ache. Lowering her eyes to my cock, to the way I handle myself, she's visibly aroused. I like this, watching her watch me.

Tight with anticipation and arousal, Michonne is leaned back on her elbows, legs open, expectantly licking her lips. Releasing the buttons on her shirt, her breasts easily spill out without the tight cinch of its closure, and the confines of a bra that she's not wearing. She doesn't need it anyway, she never does. Even with her breasts swelling well past their previous size, they are still perky enough to forgo a bra. With her blackberry nipples and areolas resting atop the crest of her plump bosom, her chest is heaving them in a deep rhythm up and down as her desire for me grows more inflamed. I can see it across her pretty face. Lying flat on her back now, she raises her ass a bit so that she can remove her leggings, and instantly I can not only smell her arousal, light and fragrant in the air, but I can see it slick and sticky on her bare lips. Closing my eyes to steel myself against coming just at the sight of her, I stop stroking myself, anticipating indulging in the real thing.

Falling to my knees in between her widespread legs, I run my nose up the cleft of her pussy lips, stealing a deep inhale of her scent. Coating my face in her essence, I sample her with my tongue, nudging her clit with my nose.

Kneading my scalp with her dainty fingers, she's encouraging me to devour her. In a series of slow measured licks, I'm languidly nudging through her folds to push through to her hole. Here I find the cadence and combination of prodding, licking, and nibbling that will drive her insane, right to the very edge of completion. But I'm so greedy for her, her moans, her cum, I'm humming in appreciation of the tangy sweetness she's giving me, losing focus. And she's wildly rolling her hips, grasping the back of my head in a tight hold, pushing my face closer to her pussy. Even though there is no way to get any closer, she's begging and calling my name in between her heavy pants, so I rub my right hand over her breasts, rolling her nipple between my fingers. Hungrily she places her own hand over mine, encouraging me to knead her breasts with a firmer more aggressive touch. With my left hand, I'm finger fucking her with two fingers. My thumb is covered in her wetness and adding pressure to the tight rosette of her ass, circling and pushing against her snug hole.

"Riiiick!"

"Sh, sh, sh…family downstairs." I mumble against her folds, a smile at how undone she has become crosses my lips. The song changes, and the crooning mellow voice of Robin Thicke emits from the speakers, as he sings about being lost without his lady. I can relate. Alexa must be tapped into Michonne's music account, because so far I think these are from her sex playlist. Which I'm thankfully quite familiar with.

My attention to her breasts, coupled with my fingers' exploration of her holes, is sending her overheated body into fits of ecstasy. Latching on to her clit, my lips suck and pull on the fleshy nub, softly laving and nibbling at her center. A keening wail of satisfaction falls from my wife's lips, starting low and quiet, then rising higher to compete with the strum of a guitar and the singer pleading with his lady, _"..._ _I just love to hear you say it,_ _it makes a man feel good, baby_ _._ _Tell me you depend on me_ _;_ _I need to hear it_ _."_

Arching stiffly, her back bowed, my wife falls back to the bed, sated. For now. Her thick thighs are still clasped around my head though, muffling the remains of the song, and the intro to another of her favorites, "Say Yes" by Floetry.

Lifting her thighs from my head, and gently placing them on the bed, I'm backing away momentarily so I can rise to my feet. I glance over to the clock on the nightstand next to the bed, making note of the time, not wanting to take too long and draw undue attention to our absence at our own get together. I rub my hand over my face. Her scent covers my hand, fingers, coats my lips in her sweetness. While I'm taking my time to get myself together before I ravage her, eager to find my own completion in the depths of my wife, I'm breathing a steady whiff of her pussy on my lips, and it's fogging my brain in a lustful cloud.

Coming to, Michonne is unhurriedly withdrawing from the edge of the bed, laying her head upon the nest of pillows.

"Where are you going? I'm not done with you." Taking a hold of her ankle I pull her back down towards me.

"My god, Rick. I just need a minute to catch my breath, baby."

"Let me help you."

Dropping my knee on the bed, I kiss up the inside of her leg, her thighs still gooey with her cum, and across her flat taut stomach. I lay my body prostrate over hers, making myself comfortable between the cushion of her thighs.

Still in a bit of a daze, Michonne opens her eyes, languid relaxation drooping her eyelids in slow blinks. Leaning on my left arm, I once again take hold of my manhood, running the dripping head through her folds, across the fat lips of her pussy. Eager to get inside of her I grip her thigh, lifting her leg high and on to my shoulder. Sinking into my wife, it's an indescribable feeling. A tingle that seizes me, grips me tightly in a web of lustful need. My being is engulfed in her warmth, drowned in the sticky wetness coating her canal. Thrusting my hips, I begin a deep, slow grind, forcing her leg back to her shoulder.

"Chonne, you feel so good, baby." I pant in between deep gulps of air. Her whimpers of delight are quiet in my ear, puffs of her sweet breath escaping with each push into her depths. With her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling and threading across my nape, she's enticing all of my senses to heightened peaks of ecstasy. Deeply ensconced within her, I'm winding and screwing my hips, crashing my pelvis against hers, making sure to maintain contact with her clit.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god!"

"You like that? You like how I'm fucking you, baby?" Lips parted she tries to answer me, but no words come out, just her continued squeals and moans. I love the sound of her like this, the sight of her squirming beneath me, fully open to me, taking all of my length. Hypnotized by the introduction of her lifting her hips beneath me, attempting to fuck me back, I'm easily falling under her spell. But, I don't want to come yet. No longer giving a damn about the football game, I want this to last, I need to consume more of her, to exalt in how responsive she is to the pleasure we're sharing.

Raising up to take away some of the pressure of my weight off of her, I reach up and grab a hold of her hands buried in my hair. Fisting them together in one of my hands, I raise them above her head. Leaning back, I take a moment to appreciate the moment, the beauty of this woman. Her body is now a lithe, sinewy curve of smooth dark skin, aglow in a mist of our intermingled sweat.

"Rick?" she questions, tilting her head in confusion. "You ok?"

"Yeah. I just wanna look at you for a minute." Grazing the fingers of my other hand across her clit, I strum the erect nub, and watch her body relax and sink further into the mattress. "I want to make you feel good, Chonne."

"Mmm, you always do, baby."

"Good. You're so beautiful." I add, rolling my hips again, giving her long, deep strokes. Not wanting her to come yet, I pull back some, making my stroke shallower, then tickle my fingers up across her stomach, stopping to trace the c-section scar from where she delivered Nina. "Thank you, Chonne."

As if on queue, agreeing with my assessment of my lady, the song shuffles to another good one, Musiq's "So Beautiful".

Continuing my worship of her body, my hands travel up to her neck. Bowed over her form, I cup my hand around to her nape and pull her up to me a bit, capturing her full lips with my own.

Michonne is moaning into my mouth, offering me evidence of her enjoyment of what I'm doing to her. She's ready to climax again. I can tell from the squeeze of her pussy around me, strangling my cock with her wet heat. With her head thrown back, I can faintly make out a few quietly spoken words.

"Please, Rick. Please."

"Hm? Please what?" I ask. I already know what my lady needs, though. I just like to hear her ask for it.

"Harder." She responds on a frustrated huff, her face focused into a concentrated frown.

"Want me to fuck you harder?"

Hurriedly nodding her head, words are lost to her again. I release my grip on her hands, and instantly one finds its way to my hair, the other to tightly grip my ass, pressing me closer to her. With her legs now riding high on my waist, I'm pounding at her middle, tenaciously digging for the bottom of her, to the place that is guaranteed to give her what she needs. Tightly holding on to her fleshy hip, the wet smack of our bodies energetically clapping against each other has me biting down hard on my bottom lip as I'm attempting to prolong the climax that is encroaching on my sanity.

"Yes, yes, yes. Oh, god!"

"I'm coming, Chonne. Fuck, that pussy is good."

With my face buried in her neck, and my hands underneath the juicy bubble of my wife's ass, holding her in place, we orgasm together. A twinkling of stars are bursting behind my lids, lightening shocking my petrified limbs in place, as excitement travels the course of my body.

As I'm descending from my debilitating climax, Michonne is still clinging tightly to my body, rolling her hips, and her soft wet tongue traverses the length of my neck. "Mmmmm. Damn, Rick, so good." She moans. Rhythmic spasms are erupting through her core and outward along her body. Aftershocks.

* * *

Dragging the pads of my fingers up and down Michonne's back in a light caress, my other hand is running through the mass of long soft dreads thrown over her shoulder. Snuggled together, she's in between my legs, spread over my chest. A thin faint snore is coming from her. She has tumbled into sleep, but I'm still half-awake. Janet Jackson's "Anytime, Anyplace" is now playing, and I'm enjoying the music and the sweaty press of Michonne's body atop mine. I'm completely uncaring of the time that's speeding by, football forgotten, until a knock sounds at the door.

"Uh, Dad. Grandpa Hershel told me to tell you that the birds are going down, and he and Nanny Mona are about to leave cause he's pissed. Can Dre and I go with them?" Carl asks through the door.

"Huh? Hold on, Carl. Give me a sec." Looking down regretfully at my wife, sorry that I have to interrupt her peaceful rest, I move the hair away from her pretty face. "Chonne, baby, I need to get up for a sec. Your parents are leaving."

"Hm? I can't again, Rick, not yet. So tired." She mumbles and turns her head the other way.

Chuckling that she thinks I'm waking her up for round two, I gently lift her from my chest, and place her on the mattress. Immediately sensing a rush of cool air from the loss of Michonne's body heat, I hurriedly grab my jeans and a clean t-shirt. Stopping in the bathroom, I gargle some mouthwash, and run some water over my face to remove the scent of my wife in my beard. Rushing to open the door, I find my son standing in the hall on his phone, with his little brother in tow.

"Game is over?"

"Almost. You guys have been up here a long time. You missed halftime, and the Falcons are about to lose." He grouses. "So, can we go? The baby is in her crib sleep, and everyone is leaving. Dre and I wanna see the new colt out at the farm, and Grandpa Hershel said we could if you and Mom say it's ok. Is it ok?" Carl rushes out. His partner in crime, Andre, is looking up at me with a hopeful glint in his warm brown eyes.

"Ok, that should be fine. Go pack a bag, and help your brother." Walking downstairs, I hear Glenn celebrating. This can't be good.

"The dead has arisen! Rick, the Pats won! Can you believe that? I guess when you changed your lucky Falcons shirt it was downhill for them from there. It was epic, dude!" Glenn exclaims, gloating a little too much for my taste. At least when it's not me doing the gloating.

"What the hell happened?" I swing my gaze from Glenn over to Hershel who is helping Michonne's mother up from the couch.

"Hell if I know." He throws his hands up in frustration. "I don't wanna talk about it!"

"Oh, Hershel." Michonne's mother Mona rubs his back, trying to soothe the sting of the Falcons unexpected loss. In a tone that I have heard her daughter use on me many times, she coos close to his ear, "Let's go home and I'll make it up to you."

"Oh?" Hershel looks to her in surprise, a slow grin easing over his lips, mirth reaching to his eyes.

Giving him a look of love back in return, Mona turns her soft gaze to me. "Are the boys coming to see the new colt?"

"Yeah. They are getting ready now. Thanks for taking 'em." I nod, grateful for the kind gesture.

"No problem. I suppose you put my daughter to bed already?" She asks with a knowing smirk.

Rubbing the back of my neck, I can feel my face turning red at her embarrassing question. Evasively answering, I nod in the affirmative. "She is sleep."

"Good. The baby is in her crib sleep as well. Tell Michonne I will call her in the morning." Hearing the boys barreling down the steps, she turns and directs them towards the front door. "Let's go and let your parents get some rest."

"But, Nanny, weren't they already upstairs sleep?" Andre asks in a little perplexed voice.

Chuckling at his question, Hershel follows his wife to the door. "Tell my daughter goodnight. Glenn, Maggie! Come on, you leave too, and give them some time alone. All that loud music they were playing leads me to believe they didn't get quite enough rest yet."

With their departure I lock up the house, and turn off all the lights and the TV. Stopping at the baby's room I check in on her, and find her flat on her back asleep, diligently sucking on her pacifier. She loves that thing, and I'm sure one day it's going to be hell trying to get it away from her. But for now I'm mesmerized by her docile beauty, and lean over to place a little kiss to her chubby cheek. Scrunching her face in displeasure at the scrape of my facial hair, it's obvious that even in her sleep she dislikes her daddy's beard.

Back in our bedroom Michonne is still sprawled across the bed on her stomach. Roaming over her sexy form, my cock begins to rise and decides that her nap is over. Prostrate over her body, I again pay homage to one of my favorite parts on my wife and give her ass a playful slap, and watch as the deliciously plump cushion jiggles. When she still doesn't rouse from her sleep, I grab a handful, and take a bite.

"Rick!" She startles from her slumber, turning her head back and forth, then finally looking back at me. "What's going on?"

"Halftime nap is over, Chonne. It's time for round two."


End file.
